‘The art of losing isn’t hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster.’
We are going to lose stuff, jobs, dreams, even people, in course of our lifetime. Why not get good at it? In fact, we probably could all stand to lose things we no longer need: extra pounds, bad attitudes, painful memories, household clutter. Books outining methods of clearing out our clutter are very popular at the moment, and more of us are valuing experiences over possessions. The younger generation are no longer interested in having the ‘family heirlooms’ of the past, just at the same time that the ageing baby boom generation is leaving ever bigger piles of stuff behind. But it’s not just redundant possessions that we need to lose, it’s the desire, compulsion even, to hang onto every detail of our past, and the belief that somehow we are diminished without our ‘stuff’ that needs to get lost.

We are going to lose stuff, jobs, dreams, even people, in course of our lifetime. Why not get good at it?

I have fought ‘pack-rat-itis’ practically my whole life, and it is Bishop’s final line ‘It’s evident the art of losing’s not too hard to master though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.’ that really hit home: make art out of your losses. Write a poem. Paint a picture. Don’t just accept loss, embrace it as an opportunity to create something new out of what is left behind. (I found Bishop’s poem so inspiring, I commissioned a composer to set it into a modern art song, and then performed and recorded it. She changed ‘write it!’ to ‘sing it!’ For me.) When I am faced with sorting through, discarding/donating/recycling my own sentimental clutter, I look for ways to creatively use small pieces of the items in patchwork or collage, making ‘art’ out of letting go.

Recently my son came to me with one of his favourite t-shirts that he had outgrown. Now, he seems miraculously free of the pack-rat gene, and I hope he will stay that way. But he really liked that t-shirt. ‘Can you make me a cushion like you did before?’ (I had made a cushion cover for his older sister, using an old hoodie, her favourite, which reminded her of a family holiday, but that she had outgrown.) He wanted to let go of the t-shirt – after all, it no longer fit – but not the memories. We gathered a few more amusing bits and a much smaller shirt that I had been saving back for this purpose, and he did the designing while I did the sewing. Here is the result.

Now, I’m not the first person to make things like this, in fact it’s part of an art form that goes back centuries, from mosaic to collage to crazy quilts. Most of the time, people, mainly women, made patchwork quilts out of necessity, using worn out clothes and scraps left over from other sewing projects, because they couldn’t afford to waste anything. These days, we – unfortunately – can very much afford to waste. So the making of this type of handicraft serves another purpose: to preserve memories, and to give ourselves a way of letting go of some possessions by using small parts of them to make something new. This way, we can let go, accept loss, even embrace it, with gentleness, creativity and even joy. The sadness of having to throw something away (or recycle it in some way) is replaced by the excitement of creation.

Very pleased to announce that a track from ONE ART was chosen as a winner in the Hawai’i Public Radio International Art Song Contest.

The winners’ concert will be broadcast in early 2018 (exact date and time TBC), featuring a 15 minute mini-recital selected from the CD ONE ART. The semi-finalist concert was played on Singing and other Sins, on the 16th December 2017. A podcast version can be heard here:

https://youtu.be/lsSyQlqVHs0
Five years after Thomas Adès’ The Tempest made its debut at the Metropolitan Opera in New York, his latest opera The Exterminating Angel also made its US and Metropolitan Opera premiere. And once again, I covered the high (even higher!) soprano role. At least this time my character is definably female. And no flying.

(Definitely not a boy)

It has been really special to be back at the Met. In this business it’s nice to be asked back to a house for many reasons: professionally, it shows they liked your work the first time, (and looks good on the c.v.,) and personally, you are on familiar territory (you already know your way around the city and the theatre, and all the good/cheap places for lunch) and, even more importantly, you probably have made a few friends there and you get a chance to catch up with them.

All those factors were magnified in this situation: I lived in New York for a while shortly after finishing my Master’s degree, and my digs were exactly 1 block from my old apartment; I’m working on (yet another) contemporary opera, which is my favourite thing to do; and…it has a HUGE cast (21 principal roles) so that’s a LOT of new friends (and quite a few ‘old’ ones, too!)

I say ‘history repeating’ for other reasons, too: The Exterminating Angel is surreal, and involves guests at a dinner party becoming trapped in a room, with several ‘deja vu’ moments; and this really feels like history in the making, with a composer conducting his own work, in front of sold out crowds, to rave reviews, at an extremely prestigious opera house.

(Showing off)

The Exterminating Angel finished its run the the Met on Tuesday, and I am back home in time for Thanksgiving. What am I thankful for? Time spent catching up with friends, showing off my sons to my Met ‘family’ (and for both of them having the chance to see an opera at the Met,) and, most importantly, finally escaping from that mysterious room!

Anyone labouring under the illusion that opera singers lead a glamorous life need to take a glance at my diary (pictured)…and this was for a pretty good gig, too. The ‘bus’ listed wasn’t for me, it was to remind me that I had enough time to take my (primary school age) son to the school bus stop before heading to Germany (via Taxi/Train/EasyJet/Coach) for a performance the following evening. A leisurely school run…followed by an 8-hour commute to work.

I once witnessed Jessye Norman arriving at Heathrow with at least 6 porters following with trolley loads of her matching designer luggage.

Perhaps our friends Renee and Placido have minions to carry their bags (and ferry their children to school) and private jets to convey them to their next engagement: I once witnessed Jessye Norman arriving at Heathrow with at least 6 porters following with trolley loads of her matching designer luggage. So, OK, some megastars have a very glam existence, but the rest of us are saving pennies by using public transport and discount airlines. (An opera singer made some headlines recently by wearing her concert gown on the flight so the airline wouldn’t charge her for excess baggage.)
Most of us jobbing singers lead fairly ordinary lives, with brief interludes of exquisite abnormality when we get the chance. The glamour is not found in first class travel and designer handbags, but in the music itself, and sometimes, when we are very lucky, amidst beautiful workspaces and famous faces. After all the schlepping and budget airlines, it is pretty wonderful to look up and see this as your ‘office’:

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Soprano Laure Meloy has presented ‘The Secret Life of a Diva: the glamorous (!) world of opera’ to community groups, clubs, and at business networking events. Bookings can be made through Femme Lunatique Productions.

Yesterday I started rehearsals at Theater Freiburg for Zaïde/Adama, which opens in June. Beginning a new engagement requires many mental and psychological adjustments: meeting new colleagues, learning staging and choreography, testing your memory/level of preparation, getting lost (er, I mean, exercising one’s navigation skills) in the theatre, etc.

When it’s also in an unfamiliar city, and in a country where you are not a native speaker of the language, well…

Let’s just say my brain is getting a workout.

And yet, there are compensations too: exploring a new environment, discovering playful public artwork…

Thomas Adès’ new opera, The Exterminating Angel, has received its British premiere at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, to rave reviews. The production famously uses live sheep, a dancer in a bear costume, and a huge ensemble cast, including a role sung by a boy soprano.

I am in the (equally numerous) cover cast, and we have enjoyed watching the process of this complex and exciting piece coming together.

One highlight has been seeing the animals (real and impersonated) and children rehearsing their roles. The dancer playing the bear had to learn to move in a realistic, bear-like fashion (he does this extremely well), the sheep had to cope with an expanded percussion section playing full volume while a dozen very hungry-looking opera singers go in for the attack (not so successfully, they had to be cut from this scene due to health and safety concerns…sheep doo doo can be slippery), and one of the boy sopranos sang so sweetly, calling for his mother, that I started to feel broody…
The Exterminating Angel is in performance at the Royal Opera House until 8 May 2017.